


Brotherhood Comes First

by SandM1827



Series: Son Shine [6]
Category: Sons of Anarchy, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandM1827/pseuds/SandM1827
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Gemma believed that the only reason Stiles even existed in this world was to bring Jax back to her.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brotherhood Comes First

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Gif set: [You Need Your Big Brother](http://stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/post/121547235119/son-shine-you-need-your-big-brother-brotherhood)  
> 5+1 fic, I guess. Or, four times Stiles helped Jax, one time they helped each other, and one time Jax helped Stiles.  
> Each page break signifies another point in time. The first five are set before Betrayal, while the last one is set a few months before Crossed Lines.  
> Stiles is referred to as Nathaniel/Nate in the first two parts, simply because it was before his name changes, so before he was nicknamed Stiles.

He knew he shouldn’t be there. There was probably some rule against it, but he could not stay away. The nurse let him back without complaint. She led him to a rocking chair, sat him down, and told him to wait. She was back a moment later, placing a tiny infant carefully into his arms.

“Support his head.” She instructed.

“I got him.” He held the baby firmly, but gently, in his arms, marveling in how little he was. Thomas had never been that tiny, he was sure of it. “Is he supposed to be this small?”

“He is a little underweight, which is to be expected given that he was premature.” She explained, and, yes, he remembered someone mentioning that he was born a few weeks ahead of schedule. “He’s perfectly healthy otherwise.”

“Good. That’s good.” Relief flooded him with that reassurance.

The nurse left them soon after. The door shut behind her and it was just him and his brothe- no. No, not his brother. He couldn’t think of him that way.

This baby was not his brother, no matter how much he wanted him to be. Gemma was severing that tie. The name on file might say _Baby Boy Teller_ , but soon it would read _Stilinski_. Any connection they held would be through blood only and sometimes that was not enough. Soon this little baby would be on his way to another town, hours away, with its father, and he would never get to see him again.

“Jackson,” A man’s voice pulled his attention toward the door, where the child’s father was standing. He had been so lost taking in the baby’s features that he hadn’t even heard the door open.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes flickered from the infant to its father, panic rising in his chest, because he knew he had overstepped his boundaries. “I should have asked-“

“No. It’s okay.” John placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting when he was ready to stand and relinquish the child. “I was wondering when you would find your way up here.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He had fought himself tooth and nail, dead set against ever seeing the baby.

“I’m glad you did. I wanted to give you this.” He adjusted the infant in his arms to take the slip of paper the older man held out to him.

“A phone number and address?” He sent him a questioning glance as he skimmed over the contents scrawled across the note.

“For when you want to see him.” He gestured to the baby. “You call to let me know you are on your way.”

“I can see him?” He could see him more than just this once? He never thought that was an option.

“I’m probably overstepping, with your mom and all,” And here Jax thought he was the one crossing a line. Apparently, they were on the same page there. “But you are more than welcome to be in his life.”

“Why?” He was a biker, or would be when he was finished prospecting. John was a cop. He had to see that Jax was a bad influence with nothing to offer the child.

“You lost a younger brother a few years ago, didn’t you?” John asked cautiously, as if he didn’t want to upset Jax.

“Yes.” He lost Thomas six years ago, but still felt the pain like it happened yesterday.

“I can’t begin to imagine what that feels like. However, I do know what it is like to have a younger brother taken away, to never be able to see him again, and to know that he is out there somewhere, living a life that you are not a part of.” Jax tightened his grip on the infant at the mere thought of that happening, at the turmoil written so clearly on John’s face. “I would never wish that on anyone, you or him.”

“What does that mean?” He didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He didn’t want to hope for something that he wasn’t going to get.

“When you want to see him, you call and come up to Beacon Hills.” That sounded manageable. He could do that. “When he’s a little older, maybe he could stay a night or weekend here with you in Charming.”

“I don’t have a house.” If his brother was going to stay with him, even for a night, then he would need somewhere to sleep. “I live at the clubhouse.”

“Well, you will have to figure that out. You have time.” It would be a while before the child was old enough to make overnight trips. “I just wanted you to know that you have a place in his life.”

“Thank you.”

“That one there,” John smiled down at his son. “He’s going to be trouble. I can see that already. He’s going to need a big brother to help him find his way.”

“I’ll do my best.” He promised more to the baby than to John. “What’s his name?”

“Nathaniel Thomas.” The name struck all the right cords, but along with it came the weight of the dead that had carried those names before him. “It seemed appropriate.”

“Yeah.”

“I have some paperwork to finish with the doctors,” He nodded toward the door. “You can have some more time with him.”

“Thanks.” He would probably be going home soon, to Beacon Hills, so this was the only chance Jax had with him for quite some time. “Hey, his heart, it’s not like Thomas’s, right?”

“It’s perfectly fine. He’s healthy.” John told him with confidence before exiting the room.

He looked down at the baby in his arms and saw him for what he was and would always be. He was his baby brother. Healthy. Whole. Perfect. His brother, who he would care for and protect until he took his final breath.

“Hi.” He caressed his fingers through the baby’s soft brown hair. “I’m Jax, your big brother.”

He never thought he would get to say those words again to anything but a headstone. He couldn’t begin to describe the love that filled him the moment he said them now, accepting his role in the baby’s life. He leaned down to brush his lips atop the infant’s head, cementing his vows of love and protection with a kiss.

“I’m always going to be here. Always.” He swore in a whisper, words only meant for them. “I would like the same assurance from you, if you can swing it.”

He didn’t expect anything in return. The baby was too young to understand what he was saying, only a few days old. The child, though, decided to surprise him. His eyes opened for the first time since he was placed in Jax’s arms.

“I will take that as a yes.” He choked out as he stared in to his baby brother’s eyes. “You and me, okay? Together. Always. I promise.”

* * *

 

Showing up unannounced to a cop’s house was probably not the brightest idea. However, he had a good reason and enough sense to leave his kutte in the car. Still, he was deserving of the semi-shocked expression gracing the older man’s face when he opened the front door, simply because he had never been there on his own before.

“Opie,” He was greeted with minimal suspicion, so he considered that a win. “You don’t look like your world is falling apart, so I can assume Jax is alive.”

“Yeah, he is.” Which didn’t mean much given his current state. “Look, I hate to ask this, but we are kind of out of options.”

“Come in.” John stepped away to allow him into the house. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Tara left Jax.” She left for college, technically, but that was irrelevant.

“Okay?”

“He hasn’t gotten out of bed in two weeks.” They were closing in on the third week now. “He’s barely eaten. He hasn’t showered. He’s been a giant asshole.”

“What do you need from me?” He already had that exasperated expression on, as if he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I was wondering if we could borrow Nate.” That sounded much better in his head than it did out loud.

“You want to _borrow_ my son?” Yeah, he could see how bad that could seem to a father.

“Just for a night.” It was not as if they wanted to keep him forever. “Maybe a day or two.”

“Christ.” The older man scrubbed a hand down his face. “Why? What could he possibly do to help?”

“He could pull Jax out of his head.” He believed that wholeheartedly.

“He’s a year old.” His age was about as irrelevant as the reason Tara left Jax.

“He’s Jax’s little brother.” That meant everything in the world to him. “Just being there would help.”

“And if it doesn’t?” That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“I’ll bring him back to you.” If the boy could not bring Jax back from the edge then he would return home, where he belonged. “Donna and I will be with him the entire time.”

“Stiles has never stayed overnight with Jax.” Ten to one Stiles had never stayed overnight with anyone yet, which was going to cause some separation anxiety between father and son. “They spend a couple hours together here, on weekends.”

“I know that.” He, Donna, and Tara had come up with him a few times. “It is the only thing I can think of that can help Jax. Please?”

“One night.” He held up a single finger to accentuate his point. “You call me when you get there, and Jax calls me in the morning. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“You did drive a car here, right?” He raised his brows. “A motorcycle is not an acceptable mode of transportation when traveling with an infant.”

“I have Donna’s car.” He wasn’t an idiot.

“I need to gather some things for Nate. Wait here.”

±±±±

It wasn’t until he walked back into Jax’s house that he started to have doubts about this plan. Nate hadn’t been too pleased to leave his dad. He had cried the entire first leg of the trip. He quieted down for the last hour, but by the time they got inside the house, he had become as sullen as his older brother. Opie had no idea a baby could even look sullen.

“You got him?” Donna stood from the couch as he came in.

“Yep, I got him.” He set the diaper bag on the coffee table and shifted the child on his hip. “His mood isn’t any better than Jax’s, so this could be a bust.”

“It’s worth a shot, at least.”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath and looked down at the boy. “You wanna see your brother? You want to see Jax?”

“Ja?” Opie would take confirmation that _Ja_ meant _Jax_ and that the boy very much wanted to see his brother.

“Jax, yeah.”

“Ja.” His eyes went wide at the prospect.

The man in question was right where Opie had left him earlier that morning. Lying in his own filth on the bed. The blankets were tangled around his legs, the pillows a mess. The entire room looked like a tornado had blown through it, and smelt like cheap booze and cigarettes. When Jax Teller moped, he moped hard.

He didn’t bother calling out to the guy, he knew he wouldn’t get a response. Instead, he sat Nate down on the bed, near Jax’s feet and took a step back, giving the brothers some space. The baby crawled further up the mattress until he reached Jax’s torso, then sat on his butt and seemed to study his brother.

“Ja.” Nate patted his older brother’s head. “Ja. Up.”

He continued to pat Jax’s head until he received a single sound of disgruntlement for his efforts. He grabbed a curtain of blond hair in his tiny fist, moving it out of the way so he could see his brothers face.

“Ja. Ja.” He smacked a small palm against Jax’s cheek. “Ja.”

“Stop it.” The older brother snapped harshly, batting away the offending appendages.

“Ja….” Oh, and there was the pout followed quickly by waterworks.

A switch seemed to flip in Jax at that moment. His bloodshot eyes shot open, seemingly registering another presence, not only in the room, but also on the bed beside him. He let out a startled noise at the sight of the boy in front of him before he abruptly sat up, nearly knocking the child off the bed in the process.

“Nate.” His voice cracked as he scooped the boy into his arms.

In a second, he was brought out of his heartbreak as if it were nothing. It was more important to sooth his younger brother’s tears, than it was to grieve an ended relationship with his first love. That was the exact reason Opie had thought to bring the baby to begin with.

“It’s okay.” Jax told his brother, though he might have been speaking to himself as well. “I got you.”

* * *

 

He had to assume the elder Stilinski was growing used to these random stop-bys in the early morning hours. Though by the look on his face, Chibs was not the Son he expecting to see on his doorstep. He still allowed him entry without hesitation, and ushered into the kitchen.

“Sorry to just drop in.” He apologized as he leaned against the counter to speak to the Sheriff. “I, uh, Stiles has spring break soon, yeah?”

“He has two more days of school before it starts.” He let out a long-suffering sigh, as if he knew which road they were about to travel down. “Is this a conversation that ends with me calling him in sick for these next two days, so he can head to Charming early?”

“Aye.” He hoped that was how this was going to go anyway.

“What’s going on?” He would more than likely agree to the plan, but John wanted the facts first.

“Ope got picked up. He has a five year stretch ahead of him.” He wouldn’t go into specifics about why he was picked up, that didn’t really matter at the moment. “Jackie-boy is pretty bad off.”

“I’m sure he is.” He cast a glance down the hallway toward the bedrooms, presumably where Stiles was. “He won’t be the only one. Stiles loves Opie too, the same way he loves Jax.”

“I know.” That was part of the reason he was there trying to retrieve the boy. “I thought it would be good for him and Jax to be together.”

“It would be.” John agreed. “I’ll get him.”

±±±±

The clubhouse was packed with members. No one was really feeling up to going to their respective homes. Most were crowded around the bar. It wasn’t even noon, and yet, they were already well on their way to getting shitfaced. Given the circumstances, it was not hard to figure out why.

Chibs didn’t care about any of them, though. His focus was on Jax and the boy at his side. Both of them were in worlds of pain at the temporary loss of another brother. The only thing that could bring them through it was each other.

They didn’t stop for pleasantries. Chibs took Stiles straight back to the clubhouse apartment, ignoring protests from the others about the dangers of entering that room. Jax had pulled a gun on the last person who dared invade his space. But, well, if anyone was going to make it in and out of that room alive, it would be the kid.

He lingered in the doorway as Stiles moved forward. The boy kicked off his sneakers and set his jacket on an empty chair before making his way to the bed where his brother was crashed out. He seemed prepared to climb onto the bed where Jax slept, but the minute his hands touched the mattress the blond reared up violently in his drunken state.

“I told you assholes to leave me alone!” He swung a fist, barely missing Stiles, who stumbled back to dodge the blow. “Get the fuck out of here!”

“Who do you think you're yelling at?” Stiles screamed at him, catching Jax’s attention through his alcohol and sleep hazed mind.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah.” The kid grumbled as he joined his brother on the bed, shoving his way under the covers. “Who else would they call to deal with you?”

“Ope.” Jax admitted sadly, curling in on himself.

“Opie is gone.” For a boy that was only eight, he sure knew how to pack a punch with only a few choice words. “You’re stuck with me. Am I good enough for you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Stiles maneuvered himself until he was sitting up near the pillows with Jax’s head resting in his lap, and began working his fingers through the older man’s hair in a soothing manner. “’Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

 

“So who’s doing it?” Clay asked as they entered the clubhouse.

“Whoever it is has to tell him about Gemma and Abel.” Chibs pointed out. “I think it’s Juicy-boy’s turn.”

“Oh, what? No. Come on.” The younger man held his hands up defensively. “How is it going to look if _I_ roll up there in the van to pick him up from school?”

“He’ right.” Opie agreed as he came in. “Anyway, Piney’s already on his way up there. He left hours ago. It’s going to look a lot better with grandpa rolling up than scalp tattoos.”

“Make sure he gets Stilinski’s permission first.” Clay urged. “We don’t need a kidnapping charge on top of the others.”

"Yep."

±±±±

The club had gathered in the Teller living room and kitchen, none of them quite sure what to do with themselves until their VP was up and around again. Thankfully, the teenager almost guaranteed to pull Jax out of his misery, was slamming through the front door with a murderous glint in his eyes directed at anyone wearing a kutte.

“Where is he?” Stiles questioned with his hands on his hips.

“Shower.” Opie jerked his head in the direction of running water.

“How long has he been in there?”

“A while.” Longer than necessary.

“You are all on my list.” He pointed an accusing finger at each of them. “All of you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, kid.” Clay quipped tiredly.

Stiles stalked off without another word, walking purposefully toward the bathroom. He didn’t bother knocking, Jax had lost the privilege of privacy when Opie had to carry him in there and strip him down to begin with.

He pulled the shower curtain back to find his brother sitting in the tub, water that had long ago gone cold beating down on his skin. He reached over to turn off the faucet before sinking to his knees on the tiled floor. He placed a hand on the nape of Jax’s neck, squeezing lightly, to draw the man’s gaze to his.

“We’ll find him.” He said firmly, enunciating each word. “ _You_ will find him.”

There was only a hint of recognition in the pale blue eyes, but it was more than there had been when he entered the room. It was a spark of something, hope or belief. It was barely noticeable, but there.

“You gotta get up, Jackson.” He couldn’t do anything from a bathtub. "Abel needs his dad."

“Stiles...” His name left his brothers mouth in the form of a pitiful whine. He wanted to believe what Stiles was telling him, but didn’t know how.

“You will find him.” He repeated with more force this time. “You will bring him home. This isn’t a choice. There are no other options. You don’t get to give up on him. You have to get up. You have to go find my nephew, your son, and you bring him home. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

* * *

He had been in the apartment all night, sitting at the desk looking through old photographs, trying to find the perfect one. Bobby and Tara had both come in and tried to talk to him, but he’d ignored them. They weren’t who he needed to see. None of them were. So he locked himself away.

He knew he should go check on Lyla, Stockton would have made the call by now. He should put in his own call to Mary, offer his condolences on the loss of her son. He couldn’t bring himself to do either of those things. He could not move from his chair until he heard the sound of motorcycle engines in the parking lot, signaling the others returning from lock up. He only made it to his feet when he heard the telltale sound of footsteps coming through the apartment door.

Jax looked like death. That was the only way he could think to describe it. There was a blank mask firmly in place at first glance, but that changed. The longer they stood in the same space, the more Jax let him see.

Anger. Loss. Defeat. Devastation. They all became so painfully clear as tears formed in Jax’s eyes and his body began to shake under the weight of it all. Stiles was at his side in a second, wrapping his arms around his brother and holding him tightly.

“That’s okay.” He assured his brother as tears soaked his shirt where Jax’s face was buried in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay.”

Jax denied with a solemn shake of his head, and Stiles had to agree. This was not okay. None of it was okay. Opie was gone. He was gone and he was not coming back. That wasn’t right. It was all wrong. Opie was never supposed to be in Stockton. He was not supposed to die, not ever.

“Oh god.” His voice quivered as his own tears poured down his face.

This wasn’t supposed to happen either. He was supposed to be strong. He had to take care of Jax. That was his job. He could not do that if he broke to.

“Ssh,” His older brother hushed him. “I got you.”

The next thing he knew they were on the floor. Jax was holding him with the same fierceness he was holding on with. His older brother was comforting him the same way he was being offered comfort. They were taking care of each other.

* * *

 

He was standing outside the clubhouse, with no idea how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was being in the emergency room while nurses and doctors surrounded his nephews. There was blood on his hands, Abel’s blood, and Juice had some of Thomas’s on his shirt.

He could remember making that realization, seeing that both his boys were hurt, and knowing it was his fault. His heart had constricted painfully in his chest and his breath seemed to cease completely. His eyes had flickered between his boys even as they darkened around the edges. He could vaguely recall his husband worriedly saying his name before it all went black.

Now, here he was, outside the SAMCRO clubhouse. The _old_ clubhouse. The one that sat in the Teller-Morrow parking lot. The Irish Kings had blown it up long ago, but it stood in front of him now like nothing had ever happened.

The entire place was deserted, from the looks of things. There was a stillness to it all, an eerie quiet. There wasn’t even the sound of birds chirping in the distance or the whir of tires from passing cars to fill the air.

“That’s not creepy at all.” He muttered under his breath, but it boomed in the otherwise silent atmosphere.

He started off to the clubhouse without really thinking about. His feet were the ones moving, he wasn’t getting much of a say in the matter. The door was open wide, but swung shut as soon as he was through it. That should have set off alarm bells in his head, but it didn’t. He felt oddly at peace inside the former SAMCRO headquarters.

“I was wondering when you would get here.” The voice reverberated like a gunshot through the room. “I thought it would be sooner, but you have always been the stubborn one.”

He clinched his eyes shut, because he knew that voice. He listened to footsteps come closer before he heard the scratch of a chair being pulled out, and someone settling in to it. His body trembled the longer he stood in this place, in the presence of _him_.

“I missed you, kid.” The words caused salty tears to fall from his eyes without permission.

“What are you doing here?” Perhaps the better question was, what was he doing here? Why was he no longer at the hospital with his kids?

“You're scared.” Stiles shot a glare to the older man for stating the obvious. Of course, he was scared. His kids were hurt and he was stuck in this place with the last person he ever wanted to see. “You need your big brother.”

“Not you.” He did not need him. Not anymore. He didn’t. If he needed a big brother, it was not this one. “I want Opie.”

“You said goodbye to him.” The other man reminded gently.

“Tommy.” He tried, hoping he could trade one brother for another.

“You never had him.” How could he possibly need someone that he never had in his life to begin with?

“Anyone but you.” His breath hitched in his throat.

“I’m all you’ve got.”

He turned away from his brother at that. He made a break for the door, turning the knob, only to find it locked from the outside. A strangled sound escaped his mouth as he clawed uselessly at the wooden frame.

“I would say that you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep that up, but,” He drummed his fingers against the bar where he sat. “We are in your head. Physical pain doesn’t really factor in.”

It wasn’t physical pain he was worried about. Whatever part of his subconscious that decided _he_ was who Stiles needed to see was obviously the part that wanted him to self-destruct.

“Come sit down, Stiles.”

“I have to go.” He could not stay there. He had people at home that needed him. “I have to wake up.”

“They probably sedated you.” The other man theorized. “You are stuck with me until it wears off.”

Well, that was fucking fantastic.

“I have to wake up.” His family needed him.

“The boys will be fine.”

“Don’t talk about my boys!” He snarled, rounding on the older man. “You don’t have that right!”

“They are _my_ boys, Stiles.” He kept his tone even, not raising his voice an octave. “I am their father.”

“You gave up that title when you decided to take the coward’s way out.” He was not Abel and Thomas’s father. He was a strand of their DNA and nothing more. “A father takes care of their children. A father protects, guides, and loves them before anyone else. He thinks about how his children will be affected by his actions before he takes them. That is what I have done.”

“You and Juice.” His heart stuttered and stalled in his chest as his brother said his husband’s name. “You’ve both done a real good job with them.”

“Do you think I want your praise?” He didn’t need to be told how well he and Juice were doing as parents, not from the man who had no idea what it even meant to be a parent. “Fuck you, Jax.”

“I don’t think you want praise or anything else from me.” His brother shrugged his shoulders. “I do think I’m here for a reason.”

“Oh, save your bullshit existentialism for your deadbeat daddy.” JT would appreciate it more than he would. “I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

“I’m not selling anything.” Jax claimed. “This is your show, little brother, I’m just guest starring in it.”

“I want you to leave.” If this was his show then he was the one who decided who was ‘guest starring’ in it.

“No, you don’t.” He did, but obviously, his subconscious did not. The traitorous bastard.

“I hate you.” That was why Jax had to go, why he couldn’t be here. “I. _Hate_. You.”

“I know.” His brother stood from the barstool and tilted his head to the side. “You hate me more than you ever thought possible. It is more than you ever hated Gem, more than you ever hated anyone. Do you know why?”

“Yes.” He had an incredibly detailed list that reminded him why. He went over it in his mind whenever someone mentioned Jax’s name or he saw his picture. “You-“

“I didn’t protect Tara. I let Juice get hurt. I walked out on my boys.” The blond ticked off each offense with his fingers.

“You couldn’t protect Tara? You destroyed her. Your life ruined her career. Her marriage to you trapped her. You boxed her into Charming and made it impossible for her to protect her children, to get them out of harm’s way. She had to lose herself and then her life to get them out.” He did not just fail to protect Tara. It was not that simple. “And Juice? You did not _let_ that happen.”

“Didn’t I?”

“You _made_ that happen. You handed him over to Tully, knowing full well what that monster would do to him. Then you ordered his execution.” Tully was nothing more than a gun. It was Jax’s finger that pulled the trigger. “As for the kids? Don’t fucking delude yourself into thinking walking out on them was a bad thing. It was the only good thing you ever did for them.”

“Even if you did believe that, you still hate me for doing it.” Jax took a few steps toward him, causing him to take a few backward to keep the distance between them. “But none of what I did to them can touch the hate you feel for me, because of what I did to you.”

“Are you talking about my beat down?” He scoffed as his back hit the door, leaving him nowhere to go. “It was payment for my sins. It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“I made you a promise the first time I held you. I made the same promise every time you had to go back to Beacon Hills and we had to be apart. I looked into your eyes and told you that I would always be there.” Stiles dropped his gaze, forcing Jax to hook a finger beneath his chin so they were eye-to-eye once more. “When everyone else was gone, it would still be you and me, always. We would always have each other, no matter what.”

A lump formed in his throat at his brother’s words. He dug his nails into the palm of his heads to anchor him down, to keep himself from losing whatever ounce of control he had left.

“It was our promise to each other. Even when the hate was still fresh from what happened to Juice, you still showed up on 580 so I wouldn’t be alone. You kept our promise.” Jax’s face softened as his eyes shined with unshed tears. “I broke it. I broke our promise that day. I left you behind. I left you after I swore that I never would.”

Stiles sobbed as more tears cascaded down his cheeks with no signs of stopping.

“You hate me more for that than you do for anything else.”

“No.” He choked out a lie.

“Yes, you do. That’s why you hate yourself too.” Jax loosed the grip on his chin, instead cupping his face in his hand. “You hate me more for what I did to you, than for what I did to them. In your mind, that’s wrong.”

“It is wrong.” Jax breaking some promise, no matter how much it meant to him, was nothing compared to what he had done to others.

“You are still trying to keep our promise, even though I’m gone and you hate me. It’s why you keep going out to 580.” He wanted to deny it, but was unsure if he could.

He drove the eight hours to 580 a few times a month. He spent his time staring at the initials he had painted on rock. He never cried. He never spoke. He would sit in silence or he would scream. He would scream until his voice went hoarse and his throat was sore.

“You have to stop going out there, Stiles.”

“I can’t.” The last place he saw Jax was the only place he felt like himself sometimes.

“I’m not there. I’m gone, kid.” He couldn’t help the whine that escaped him as he listened to his brother. “You don’t have to keep our promise anymore.”

“It’s the only one I haven’t broken.” He had to keep it. It was all he knew how to do.

“It is not the only one. You promised Tara and me that you would save our boys.” He whimpered in shame, because he had done a horrible job at trying to keep that promise. “And you have. You saved them.”

“They are both in the hospital.” They were hurt on Stiles watch.

Abel’s head had been slammed so hard against a wall that he lost consciousness, and bled profusely from the wound left behind. Thomas had a gash on his arm from a bullet that had ricocheted off the closet door and grazed him.

“What happened to them is not on you. That is Wendy’s sin. I let her into my children’s life. I knew she would slip and I still let her in.” Jax sighed. “You tried to save them from her. You tried to save her too. It’s not your fault, Stiles.”

The first time Wendy had relapsed, she did thirty days of sober living, and then he let her come home. The second time, it was sixty days. When she relapsed a third time, she didn’t get to come home when she finished her time in rehab, Stiles helped her get into an apartment instead. The fourth time, the last time, he told her she had to complete sixty days of rehab before she could speak to Abel on the phone, and have a full year of sobriety under her belt before she could see him again.

She didn’t finish her sixty day. She, her dealer, and a few friends, had broken into their house in the middle of the night. They had been hell bent on taking Abel, but Abel fought back, they all had. The boys had gotten hurt, were in the hospital right now because of it.

They were in the hospital and he was here with Jax.

“It’s not your fault.” His older brother caressed his cheek with a thumb. “You saved my boys. You kept that promise. Do not ever think that you didn’t.”

Jax dropped his hands away from his face and brought their foreheads together.

“That is the only promise you have left to keep. You do not have to keep _our_ promise anymore.” Stiles shook his head, prepared to argue. “Gotta let it go, little brother. You have to let _me_ go.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” He shoved his hands against his brother’s chest, clutching his fingers around the leather of his kutte, like he had done that day on 580. “You are the goddamn voice inside my head. I see you standing next to me whenever I look in the mirror.”

“That will stop when you say goodbye.”

“I know.” That was exactly why he couldn’t do it.

“I’ll still be here.” He placed a hand over Stiles heart, over the reaper tattoo that was inked there in his honor. “I will always be your brother.”

“You left me.”

“I did.” Jax reached up to wipe his tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” He repeated his earlier sentiment because that hate was never going to go away.

“I know.”

“I miss you.” He admitted for the first time since Jax had died. “I miss you.”

**Author's Note:**

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>  Thank you for all the comments and kudos, they are greatly appreciated.


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